Romantic Corsica, wanderings in Napoleon's isle; . broke through the rivers roar, andround a sharp corner came a huge cart drawn by half adozen horses and carrying several long tree-trunks. Thedriver cracked his whip, yelled, and pulled at the companion was sitting at the end of the longesttrunk where it scraped the ground. At the angle in theroad there was no wall guarding the edge of the preci-pice, and I soon saw the reason for this. As the heavily-laden vehicle negotiated the corner the ends of thetrunks swung off the road, so narrow is it, and for aminute the young Corsican sit
Romantic Corsica, wanderings in Napoleon's isle; . broke through the rivers roar, andround a sharp corner came a huge cart drawn by half adozen horses and carrying several long tree-trunks. Thedriver cracked his whip, yelled, and pulled at the companion was sitting at the end of the longesttrunk where it scraped the ground. At the angle in theroad there was no wall guarding the edge of the preci-pice, and I soon saw the reason for this. As the heavily-laden vehicle negotiated the corner the ends of thetrunks swung off the road, so narrow is it, and for aminute the young Corsican sitting there hung over thegaping river ravine yawning a couple of hundred feetbeneath him. I held my breath almost as the horsesstrained and kicked till back once more the ends of thetrunks came to the road to act as a brake to the ponderousload as it creaked downwards to the next bend. The sun early leaves this deep defile and the shadowsimpart to it a still more fearsome form. Those astound-ing walls seem to shut one in like a prison and twilight. THE DEFILE DE liNZECCA. To race p. 132.] BY A ROUNDABOUT WAY TO BOCOGNANO 133 almost hides the narrow path to freedom. In mysteriousgloom the dark masses range themselves in ghostly arraytill one is almost ready to flee in terror. Nowhere inCorsica is Natures rough hewing so grandly done. Likemotionless avalanches gigantic rocks are poised, smitteninto profiles so varied, into shapes so colossal. TheDefile de Ilnzecca should be seen by moonlight, whenthe shadows are deep, when the night is still, save for therivers music, and when fleecy clouds pile themselvesupon the heights, transforming the whole region into awhite, glistening mass of spectral Alps. Then by another imposing gate in what looks like agreat, dry, mortarless Wall of China the defile is leftbehind. It was dark when I reached this spot, but earlynext morning I took a run back to this point with thetreble pyrpose of seeing the scenery, spending a part ofthe day fishing in
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